Brandon

I picked this novel up as a new member of a book club, read the synopsis, and was immediately intrigued by the relation of heat and Hell to the boy who claimed to be the devil. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, having never read a Southern Gothic before, and Tiffany McDaniel gave me something that sat heavy: a study of fear, innocence, and how a town's thirst for righteousness can become its own sin.

I was left distraught many times over the course of my reading. I could sympathize with Fielding as the burning walls of Breathed closed around him and stole his innocence and love; however, I felt that the timeline shifts between his present life and past events took away from some of the emotional impact.

The book started slow and felt very verbose, but it leaned heavily into the biblical. It was poetic how the heat chipped away at the town's morals. Little by little, people lost the pieces of themselves that made them good.

Sal, the boy who claims to be Satan, is wise and well-spoken. He becomes the scapegoat for everything wrong in the town. The main culprit spreading these rumors is an older man named Elohim, who weaponizes his influence and the underlying prejudices the townspeople hold toward African Americans.

The story takes place in a small Appalachian town, Breathed, Ohio, during the summer of 1984. The setting is significant because it coincides with the height of the Satanic Panic, and McDaniel captures this fear perfectly through her writing.

The symbolism in this book runs deep: snakes tempting the innocent, fire and heat punishing the town, and names layered with meaning.

The character names, which I absolutely loved, carry real weight in reflecting their personalities and actions. A few that stood out to me:
Sal — a portmanteau of Satan and Lucifer
Autopsy — from the Greek autopsia, meaning “to see for oneself”
Fedelia — stemming from infidelity, tying to her heartbreak and betrayal
Elohim — in Hebrew, directly translates to God
Bliss — ironic for a family robbed of their happiness

By the end, Paradise Lost isn't just a quote, rather it's the whole town's story. It's Grand's tragedy, Stella's quiet suffering, Autopsy's blind curiosity, and Fielding's endless guilt. It's the truth that sometimes evil doesn't walk in horns and smoke; it walks in men convinced they're holy.

This book burned slow, but it scorched deep.